


It's After That Hurts

by jonnyluvssherlock



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Eventual Smut, Fallen Angel Sherlock, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Mild Gore, Pining Sherlock, War, Winglock, soldier John, war zone
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-16
Updated: 2014-04-16
Packaged: 2018-01-19 14:28:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,791
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1473154
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jonnyluvssherlock/pseuds/jonnyluvssherlock
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock's an angel stuck as a guardian to danger addict John Watson.  Everything is fine until he gets too involved.  Now he has to make the choice, eternity alone or one life time with a man who may or may not love him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	It's After That Hurts

**Author's Note:**

> This is very much a work in progress so tags and character list will update as the story does. This fic was inspired by a German film called Wings of Desire which also inspired the film City of Angles. I saw Wings of Desire and liked the idea of it. The plot of this fic is only 5% based off the film. I am also a non-relgious person and mean no disrespect to people who are as I talk about my made up version of creation and how the world works. I may use quotes from the show every once in a while. I use them knowing I am quoting the show and putting here that I am using direct or paraphrased quotes.
> 
> This fic was beta'ed by izxo-ox who without this fic would have never seen the light of day because of my fear of putting any work that hasn't been edited.
> 
> Note: Please do not redistribute my fanfiction on other archives or sites such as goodreads or ebooks tree without my express permission.
> 
> this was going to be a multi chapter fic it has now been changed to a one shot

Prologue

Time began and so did Sherlock, so did all the angels. They didn’t know what had made them only that they had a purpose; protecting the humans who would be born to the world they lived on. 

For a time it was just the angels and that was boring. Then other things came alive soon there were animals and names were given and life began. 

From the moment Sherlock’s life began he was chasing something. Something he didn’t understand. He would pass it several times not knowing that the soul he would come to love someday was right next to him.

 

Part One

 

“This has to end Sherlock.”

“Says who?” Sherlock smirked, looking at Mycroft over his shoulder. He held his hands together behind his back, pushing his chest out slightly.

Mycroft sighed, “the world is not your play thing. You have been asked to stop nicely. Now you are being told.” Mycroft tapped his umbrella on the ground once.  
Sherlock turned to stare at him. “You’re telling me what to do?” Sherlock shook his head.

“Not just me.” Mycroft looked at Sherlock hoping he would understand the gravity of what he was saying. The shift in Sherlock’s expression, slight but there told Mycroft Sherlock was finally getting it.

Sherlock turned to face Mycroft. “The counsel.”

“Don’t worry, they’re not throwing you over yet. You’re just being reassigned.” Mycroft lifted his umbrella and looked at its tip. “We’ve realized that you’ve had too much freedom. You need guidance. A job that has restraint and long hours.”

“No.”

“You’ll keep your rank and if you do well with this job we’ll talk about giving you more freedom.” Mycroft gave Sherlock a quick tight smile.

“But a guardian?”

“Think of it as an experiment. The longer your charge lives the longer the experiment gets to continue.”

 

Sherlock had gone over that conversation many times in the three years since he’d taken his post. They had been long years moving at the slow mortal pace of humans. He supposed he felt them more then he normally did because he was living side by side with one.

He had to admit that he had been lucky with the human he had gotten. John Watson was not stupid or boring. Sherlock had watched John finish medical school and join the military. A decision many people in John’s life had felt was a bad one. They had wondered why someone with John’s skills would waste his life. Sherlock saw something different. John thrived in the army, his skills as a doctor and as a soldier taking him to new heights. 

Sometimes Sherlock would see others like himself, though lower ranked. They would pass each other or wave at him from far off. Sherlock, for the most part, ignored them. He disliked his own kind more then he disliked humans. 

Angels tended to feel superior to humans, not that they weren’t. But they looked at humans like pets they needed to take care of. Sherlock looked at humans like chest pieces to move about the board. Mycroft had accused him of moving people about like game pieces before. Sherlock had never denied it. He was starting to think that was how he had gotten himself into this mess. Next time he would need to be less obvious.

 

When the angels had started guiding humans there had been an angel for every one of them. With the population growth and two mass exoduses the angel population wasn’t enough to go around anymore.

The first mass exodus had been when a group of angels had decided that while they enjoyed their powers they didn’t like who was in charge. So they had broken off and set up a rebel camp. They became what humans call demons, angels with bad intentions.

Then a second group of angels, after living for so long, started to envy humans and their short life spans. Being only spectators to life had been a drain on them. They wanted their own opportunity’s to live, love and die. 

Sherlock mocked them. They had all died over a thousand years ago. Not before polluting the world with talk of angels, which the humans had changed into religious icons. 

Sherlock has stayed and risen up the ranks to high angel, answering only to the counsel. He had seen all of time, had learned from and influenced people who had changed the world. 

His reward? To be stuck in a war zone trying to keep a man with a love of danger alive.

 

Sherlock never slept, so he was always watching. He watched as John carefully pulled people back from the brink of death or as bullets rained over John and his comrades. 

As John’s guardian he wasn’t allowed to save John from everything. If angels saved their charges from every scrape and bruise no one would have died in the old days. He mainly observed and then, sometimes, he would get a feeling. Something in him telling him to act, and he would just know what to do. 

A gentle nudge so a bullet would miss John. Tripping him so something wouldn’t fall on his head if he had kept walking. Things no one would notice, unless you were John who was starting to suspect he either had the luck of the devil or the ghost of family member keeping him safe.

It was a sweet sentiment that dead family members could keep you safe. When someone mentioned an angel John had laughed. Then said maybe. Sherlock who had at the time been standing behind him had known John didn’t believe in angels. John lived in hell; angels were for children.

 

At first Sherlock hated his job and only did well so that he could have it end. But the more time he spent with John the less he disliked the work. John was an amusing person. He worked hard and kept himself sane. He seemed happier in a warzone than at home on leave. 

By John’s fifth year in the army Sherlock was starting to feel like he had gone native. He had gotten used to the candor of John’s voice, they way his laugh would change right before it stopped and the way his face hardened as he moved into combat; seemingly unaffected. 

John used his words and his calm expression as a way to keep those around him centered. Sherlock wondered how they couldn’t see the conflict in John’s eyes. Yes John didn’t lose his cool under pressure, but that didn’t mean he was made of stone. When two people lay shot in front of him, and he had to pick who was going to live, it affected him. More then he let his comrades know.

Sherlock was beginning to realize he liked John. He no longer begrudged the man for being born. Sherlock knew it was pointless to blame John for him being stuck as a guardian but it had been better then taking responsibility.

Sherlock was no longer moping about hoping John would get shot so he could get back to his real work. He worried. When John was in pain it affected Sherlock. Not that he liked to think about it too much.

 

Sherlock had been hanging back, enjoying watching John eat. John didn’t get many quiet moments and Sherlock was learning to enjoy them. The unit was taking a break next to a group of abandoned buildings when the alarm sounded, the scout calling back to the others. In a whirl of guns and throwing on of packs the unit got into position dropping what wasn’t important. 

Sherlock eyes lingered on the half eaten food that sat where John had been sitting. He didn’t like it. John hadn’t slept decently in months and now he couldn’t even eat. A feeling like frustration flooded Sherlock, shocking him. He was so preoccupied with clamping down his own feelings he didn’t notice, at first, John standing up to get in to a better firing position.

Sherlock looked up and he saw John standing, walking towards a hail of bullets. Sherlock moved, running across the open space between them. Not because he had the feeling that he knew this was a moment to save John and he knew how, but because he was consumed with panic.

Panic that John would be hurt or worse die. Sherlock reached out and flung his arms around John then spread his wings around them, creating a protective barrier around them.

From John’s perspective nothing had changed. He could still see and every one could still see him, but now no bullets could touch him. Sherlock pressed his face into John’s neck and breathed in the salty, sweaty scent that filled his nose. He wanted to press closer but John’s helmet and his own head ornamentation didn’t allow for it.

He was breaking every rule, but he didn’t care. His heart was slowing down only to speed back up. Suddenly Sherlock realized why life didn’t seem boring anymore.

 

Back at base after John had finished his shift, showered and finally gotten to eat, he went to bed. Sherlock lay himself down in the narrow spot next to him and watched him sleep. In the past he had spent the few hours John slept, reading through the books John had, or wandering around the base. As along as he didn’t go too far he would be able to hear John’s call of trouble.

This time, though, Sherlock wanted nothing but to watch John as he slept. He also had the sudden need to touch him and to have John know he was touching him.  
“We gave you this job to keep you out of trouble.”

Sherlock sighed but refused to take his eyes off John. “I am doing my job.”  
“Wrapping a mortal in your wings so they can come to no harm when the instinct to protect hasn’t kicked in, is not doing your job.”

Sherlock said nothing.

“Can we at least go talk in private?”

Sherlock finally looked at Mycroft. “It’s not like he can hear us.” Sherlock turned back to John and snuggled deeper into the cot.

“This will only cause you misery.” Sherlock heard the familiar tapping of Mycroft’s umbrella. “I expected more of one who wears a crown.”

Sherlock tried not to reach up and touch the crown a top his head. The mark that he was high angel and could one day be a counsel member. He knew it was what Mycroft was grooming him for.

“I’m just doing the job you gave me.”

“I told you to be a guardian to the man, not cocoon him from the world. If you ever want your old job back get this right or it will be this forever.”

Sherlock knew what he meant. The life of a guardian was a sad one. You spent all your time and effort protecting one person. Getting to know them and often caring for them. All leading up to the day when you would understand you weren’t allowed to help anymore and were forced to let them die.

“What you’re feeling is normal. You’re in a high-pressure situation, if you can only get a hold of it. These feelings will help you be a better angel in your other work. It will help you from pushing humans too far.”

Sherlock said nothing, focusing on John’s breathing.

“It gets easier. Anyway, if you miss him you might meet him again.”

Sherlock glared at Mycroft who put his hands up and in defeat and vanished. Yes, if John died, Sherlock might meet him again. They had all witnessed reincarnation. But he wouldn’t be John, with all his little John idiosyncrasies.

 

Love. The word tasted strange in Sherlock’s mouth no matter how many times he said it. It had been three months since he had saved John when he wasn’t suppose to and Sherlock had had to deal with the fact that he was in love with John ever since.

It was an odd sort of love. The kind that always felt on the verge of being something more or something deeper and never was. 

For Sherlock’s part he had to watch while John fought in a war that scarred him mentally and physically. He had had to watch John make love to women who thought John would give them his heart. Sherlock stood by while John’s sister tried to emotionally blackmail him through all this he smiled.

The war John enjoyed, as long as he could keep fighting the demons couldn’t catch up to him. The women couldn’t have his heart, because John didn’t know what he’d done with it. It was buried under rubble and dead friends and nightmares that kept him up at night. His sister, he ignored, as much as he could, talking to her wife if he needed information.

Sherlock wanted to make it all go away. He wanted to make a life where it was just them no war, no, sister, no girlfriends. He knew he could find some way to keep John entertained, keep the element or danger alive for him.

Sherlock knew he could if given the chance make John happy. Out of a warzone. As his friend though he hoped as something more.

Whenever John sat alone Sherlock would sit next to him or across from him and imagine the conversation they would have if John were allowed to see or hear him. Sherlock liked to think John unlike the angels he dealt with would enjoy talking to him and they would sit for hours conversing. He’d even imagine when John got up to go to bed he was inviting him to follow. That as they ley side by side it could mean more.

 

Sherlock was always one step behind John if he had a shadow if would fall across John he often walked so close. That day with John’s hurried movements between buildings Sherlock was slightly farther away.  
It all happened in moments. Shots were fired and Sherlock rushed towards John even though there was no urge or anything inside him telling him he needed to save him. Sherlock found John working over a new recruit.  
John looked up as if he’s seen something and Sherlock looked to where he was looking. A gunman was poised to shot him. Still Sherlock had not felt the pull to save John and he realized he’s not supposed to. He was supposed to stand there while John died.

The bullet coursed past Sherlock into John who had refused to move while he worked on the man next to him. Sherlock moved with out thinking and laid his hands on John’s prone form.  
John was dying. 

Blood was pooling out of his body at the wound in his shoulder he wouldn’t last more then a few moments more. It can’t end here. Its all Sherlock could think.  
“It can’t end here, it can’t end here.”

John stopped breathing.

Sherlock pressed his hand onto the wound in John’s should and gave him something he always though made him better then humans and other angels. Something he’d worked for. He gave John as much as he needed and when John breathed all he could do is smile.

Sherlock laid himself on top of John to keep him protected. When the humans come and lift John they didn’t even feel Sherlock.

 

Two days after John was shot Sherlock stood on top of Big Ben. He left John after he knew he was stable and made the journey here to make himself and the people he would need to encounter ready. It had taken most of the rest of his power but it was worth it.

“You can’t be serious.” Mycroft appears next to Sherlock looking repulse.

“I am.”

Sherlock you’ve been stupid enough. We can fix the mistakes you’ve made so far. We might even be able to make it look like character development.” The way Mycroft said the last part told Sherlock how much he thought about it.

“For the first time in years things make sense Mycroft.”

Mycroft look over the edge of the building. “This makes sense? You make fun of angel who do this.”

Sherlock look out at London. “I’d never met John Watson before.”

“That is disgustingly sentimental. You could do this and he might not love you.”  
Sherlock nodded.

“All lives end. All hearts are broken. Caring is not an advantage, Sherlock.”

Sherlock shrugged. “I won’t know till I find out.”

Sherlock stepping off the edge of the building and instead of letting his wings catch him he tucked them up and let himself fall.

 

Who ever said that it isn’t falling that hurt but after was a very wise person is Sherlock’s regard

**Author's Note:**

> i had a lot of plans for this fic it was going to be an epic story about Sherlock falling from grace because he loved John so much he couldn't be without him. they would have fallen in love and then Moriarty would have shown up and tried to kill John to steal the power Sherlock accidentally gave him when he saved his life. John and Sherlock together with there love would have been enough to defeat Moriarty and they would have lived happily ever after. 
> 
> after over a year of this fic sitting still i realize i am never going to finish it.


End file.
